


Endryd Haar: The Riven Hound

by templarhalo



Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Female Astartes and Custodes, Gen, Harr is so done with the traitor's shit, OC's Galore - Freeform, SisterofSilence is a godsend. She loaned me one of her OC's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templarhalo/pseuds/templarhalo
Summary: Endryd Haar former World Eater, now a Blackshield and Agent of the Imperium has sworn a Death Oath to  atone for the crimes his former brothers have committed.   He is the Riven Hound,  the one who will see justice done,  even if he has to  die doing so.  But when a usual suicide mission leads to the discovery of something that may tip the balance of the war in Horus' favor, Haar finds that giving up his life might not ensure victory.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SisterOfSilence](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=SisterOfSilence).



> Still Working on Simple Souls, but a conversation with @SisterofSilence led to this being written.
> 
> Enjoy and leave comments and Kudos!

Darkness.  Darkness and light.  That is what composes our universe.  The darkness of the void, and the brightness of stars, suns and planets.  Once, the light of reason, of hope for a better future for Humanity, sought the eclipse the darkness, and for a brief time, there was light.

Now Darkness returned.

Brother fought Brother

Sister fought Sister.

Trillions died.

Worlds burned.

Traitors against the Loyal.

And Darkness sought to snuff out the light.  To leave only horror and chaos

A human philosopher lost to history once said “Rage, Rage, against the dying of the light.”

That is precisely what humankind did.  On Calth.  On Signus Prime, Hydra Cordatus, Paramar, and a hundred other worlds, those loyal to the Emperor of Mankind refused to give up and die to the blades and guns of those they once called brother and sister.  They refused to let the darkness snuff the candle they ignited.  They refused to let Horus Lupercal, Primarch of the XVI legion, destroy all they had built.

The candle that was humanity refused to flicker and die.  The fire of hope refused to burn out

And then there were those the traitors wished had died those they who they had once called brother and sister, those who refused to bend their knee to their primarch and Warmaster and side with the Emperor.  Hell itself could not contain them.  They would not falter, they would not let themselves die until they had taken as many traitors to the grave with them and until those had broken their oaths to their Emperor and humanity faced retribution.  Until they faced justice for their betrayal and the sins, they committed.

One of those the traitors cursed, more than any other, even more than Nathaniel Garro, Agenta Primus of Malcador the Sigillite, Hero of Istvaan and leader of the Knights Errant, the largest thorn in the Warmaster’s side, was Endryd Haar.  For he was not a thorn.  He was not a sword.  He was the fang that would tear out his Primarch’s and the Warmaster’s throat and bring it before the Emperor.

Only than would, he accept death.

 


	2. The Riven Hound

 

The ship was as dark as the void.  It glided through the asteroid belt with effortless ease.  The ship was old...  It had been construed in the shipwrights of Mars, around two centuries ago.  One of the first Strike Cruisers ever constructed, it had once served in the fleet of the XII legion proudly.  The ship's name was the Cicatrices Tyrannus.

It bore no colors save for black and deep gunmetal scratches.  It bore now heraldry saves for the Imperial Aquila.  It was a ship filled with ghosts, the forgotten and the betrayed.  

And it was waiting.  Waiting to strike.

Endyd Haar, the Riven Hound, Praetor of the Blackshield, The Fangs of the Emperor hated waiting.  He could do subtlety, but patience had never been one of his virtues.  Even with the removal of the Butcher’s Nails, patience had not become easier for him.

Endryd Haar was around average height for an Astartes.  He lacked the patrician features or the inherent handsomeness of the Blood Angels, but to call him ugly would be a lie.  The gene-forging and scars of battle had not removed his handsomeness, in a way it added to it.  Haar had two scars on his face.  One stretched from his cheek the lower right corner of his lip.  The other above the two service studs in his forehead.  He had a short beard and close cropped brown hair.  He was clad in a black, battered suit of Mark IV Maximus pattern Artificer Power Armor that was stripped of all insignia and iconography.

He tapped his right hand against the armrest of his command throne.  

“Auspex report.”  He ordered.  His baritones voice the only noise apart from the beeping of the cogitators in the bridge of the Tyrannis.

“No warp translations detected yet, my lord.”  The Auspex officer replied.

Haar let out what might have been a sigh and looked out the viewports.  The Cicatrice Tyrannis was running dark.  Its Auspex was operating at 10 percent.  Any higher and its energy signature would be visible.  It engines were cold.  Its Lances powered down.  The bridge, like the rest of the Strike Cruiser that still had working lights was bathed in dim red emergency light. Haar rose from his command throne.

“Perhaps The Sigillite’s intelligence was wrong.”  Boian Tarvan  said.

“It is not wise to doubt the Sigillite.  The God-Emperor made him regent of Terra for a reason.” Kal Jakar replied.

Endryd looked at his two lieutenants.

Tarvan had been with him since they were inducted.  Before they were World Eaters,before they were War Hounds. Like Haar, he was clad in Mark IV Power Armor, but while Haar had stripped any insignia from the XII Legion,  Boian retained the old sigil of the War Hounds on his left shoulder pad.

Kal Jakar was clad in a mix of Mark II and Mark III warplate.  His helm was Mark II and he held it in his bionic left hand.  In the poor lighting, his dusky skin seemed to glow.  Unlike his brother’s armor, which  was plain and worn out. His was  polished with silver trim. Acid etched into every surface of the armor were the names of dead loyalist brothers and sisters in High Gothic.  Only one name was acid etched in the Colchisian tongue: Mara Xal, his honor sister and fellow Chaplain, slain by Lorgar’s  “Blessed Sons, “ when the two hundred and seventy  surviving members of the Chapter of the Waning Moon returned to their years after years at the edge of the Imperium.  Only 30 Word Bearers survived the purge.

Now Kal was the last.

“There’s always a first time .”  Boian said.

“Sergeant, doubting the word of the Sigillite is to doubt the word of the God Emperor  and-

“That’s heresy blah blah blah, first rule of warfare Chaplain, Intel gets stale really quick-.

“My Lord, report from the Astropath!  A ship is about to exit the warp!”  the comm officer yelled.

There was no need to go to battle stations.  The crew had already been at stations for quite some time.

“One enemy ship Praetor.” the sensorium officer reported.

“ I can see that Lieutenant.”  Endryd Haar. said.

The enemy ship was a Strike Cruiser.  It flew the white and blue colors of the World Eaters.

“That it?”  Flag-Captain Ella Thylin said.

The Flag-Captain was a short woman with long red hair done in a neat braid.  A Plasma Pistol. and Chainsword were at her side.  She wore a blue Imperial Navy uniform with a crimson sash and a grey longcoat

“One ship matches Lord Malcador’s intelligence perfectly.”  Kal said.

“Not true Chaplain, the Sigillite’s intel said the ship bore the 125th company, this one bears the markings of the 126th.”  Boian said.

“ I concede to your observation Sergeant.”  Kal replied with a mocking theatrical bow.

“Flag-Captain what is the status of the enemy vessel?”

“ Pausing  to catch their breath sir.  They were running the engines hot and they haven’t rolled out their guns or raised their void shields.”  Ella said.

“And how long till their battle ready?”  Haar asked.

“The average time for an Astartes vessel to be battle ready after exiting the Warp. Two minutes.  Factor  in the Butcher Nails, general sloppiness of the Twelfth  Legion and proportion of press-ganged crew to actually navy crews.  Five to seven minutes.”

“Weapon Master is it possible to hit them with our bombardment  cannon?”  Haar .

“Yes sir. We're  in minimum  range, the asteroids aren’t blocking our line of sight, and they haven't detected us with their Auspex.”

“They could still eyeball us.” Boian growled .

“ We'll hit them  with our bombardment cannon, a precise shot to their ammo storage  for their own Bombardment Cannon. Then we accelerate and hit them with torpedos. Then we hammer them with our broadside Macrobatteries. “

“Shouldn't we use our Lances? Macrobatteries won't pierce the armor, it's too thick.” Ella said .

“ We're not hitting them amidships, we'll  be clipping  their engines, then we raise shields and take their return fire.  Than we carve into them with our Lances and deploy boarding parties.”

“ Simple. I like it.“  Boian

“We have a firing solution my lord.”  The weapon master called.

The bombardment  cannon was already loaded.

“Fire.” Haar ordered.

The Tyrannis rumbled as it unleashed its wrath.

And the slaughter began.

Haar flexed his Power Fist as the Storm Eagle accelerated towards the hangar bay of the traitor vessel.  There were five of these gunships in their boarding party. Each of them bearing Space Marines hungry for the blood of their erstwhile kin.  Although they had been removed, Haar felt the Butcher’s Nail bite, the phantom pain making him grind his teeth in suppressed agony.

“The Nails?” Boian gritted out.  He felt the pain too.  Like most of the Fangs of the Emperor, who  had been from  Haar’s old command from the XII Legion, they bore the physical and mental scars of the suffering Angron inflicted on his legion.

Haar looked over the other Astartes in the gunship.  He saw a Blackshield he knew was a Death Guard check the pressure on his Flamer.  Another he knew was an Ultramarine was meditating with an ornate Thunder Hammer across his lap.  Kal was checking his Bolter, running his name over the names of the dead he inscribed onto its casing.  Haar could hear muttered prayers in High Gothic from  his and a few other Astartes lips.

“30 seconds Praetor.”  Fabius said from the cockpit..

Fabius had been a member of the Emperor’s Children,  a Fire Raptor pilot condemned to  die with his brother’s on Isstvan III.  He had provided desperately needed air support for the beleaguered loyalists until he had been shot down.  He then fought alongside  a band of  Death guard with a Charnabel saber he had pried from the dead hands of a Palatine Blade.    The orbital bombardment had left him battered and broken, and he now had more bionics than an Iron Hand.  Haar had rarely seen him outside his gunship, and never unhelmed.

“10 seconds”  Fabius said.

“ For the Emperor.”  Haar growled.  A familiar cold feeling came over him.  He had always felt it before he went into battle, but his veins turned to  ice and his mind burned a coldfire as the sheer rage at his brother and gene-father’s betrayal came the forefront of his mind.

He drew his Archeotech pistol.  The pistol resembled a bolt pistol, but the barrel was tapered likes a laspistol, and the slide instead was replaced with coils similar to that of a plasma pistol.

Heavy Bolters began chattering and Lascannons added the deep voice to the chorus of firepower, as the Storm Eagles began clearing the hanger and keeping the enemy  suppressed for them long enough for the Blackshields to disembark.

The ramp went down and Haar shot the first World Eater he saw.  He strode down the ramp, the red beams of the Archeotech pistol leaving fist sized holes in the World Eater’s chests.  Haar estimated there was a full Tactical Squad in the hangar  bay.  But there were nearly a hundred Blackshields.  That didn't stop the World Eaters from charging anyway.  Howling with bloodlust, they found themselves slain by Bolter fire before they even got to close the distance .   

“Blades out.  You know your targets.  For the Emperor.” Haar growled.

Haar knew that the fighting would soon be up close and personal.   Boarding actions always were.  Haar  gestured to the five Terminators of Squad Karanthus  to take the lead. It would fall to Karanthus and his squad to spearhead the assault on the genatorum.

While half the Blackshields went to  the genatorum, the rest were led by Haar to take the bridge.

It would be a bloodbath  for both sides, but both were willing to pay the butcher's bill for victory.  The Blackshields had forfeited their lives in order to drown themselves in traitor blood and earn absolution, the World Eaters  simply didn't care about dying.

The Fangs of the Emperor and the Eaters of Worlds met in a clash of blades and hate.  Blood slicked the corridors and hallways. Bolters were emptied at point blank range.  Chainweapons were blunted dull, Phosphex and flame filled the hallways.  Throats were slit, heads rolled and both sides found themselves wading in corpses.

Haar caught the chain of a Meteor Hammer and shot the World Eater carrying it in the throat.

He punched another World Eater in the chest.  His Power Fist steamed with rapidly evaporating blood.  He saw Boian facing off against two World Eaters, a Power Axe in one hand, his Combat Knife in another.  Boian, buried his knife up to  hilt in one World Eater’s throat and then brought his axe down on the other’s head    Kal’s Volkite Serpenta  whined is it incinerated two more World Eaters.

Haar smashed his elbow into a World Eater and then shot an Ogryn that was hefting a Heavy Bolter.  The last of the World Eaters in the section of the ship were dead, and all that was left were the mortal crewman.  Some wore Carapace armor and hefted Lascarbines and Shotguns.  Most wore only uniforms and hefted Autopistols and Laspistols Bullets bounced off his armor and he heard the report of a shotgun  as Terak sent the mortal crewman scattering.

“They’re scattering.”  The former Son of Horus said.

“Most  mortals tend to that “ Kal said with a grin.  The Chaplains armor was rent and scarred. Oaths of moment and scrollwork  had been torn away and his right pauldron was riddled with holes from Bolt shells.  His copy of the Lectio Divinitatus he kept chained to his belt was untouched.

“Mortal traitors tend to do that.  Most Loyalist mortals fight like cornered lions.” Boian said. He was hefting a chainsword he had taken from a fallen traitor.  Tekan had just slid the third shell into  his shotgun, when they all heard footsteps.

‘Too loud to be  a mortal, too soft to be an Ogryn.”   Boian said.

Around the corner came fifteen children.  Not mortal children.  They  were recognizable as Astartes, but children to the veterans of hundreds of battles, some since the beginning of the Great Crusade.  They wore white Carapace armor with no legion insignia or company markings.  The were no kill-tallies or honor markings.  Their armor was clean, untouched by battle and unstained with blood. Their unscarred faces were the variety of colors that came from multiple recruiting worlds.  They all had the Butcher’s Naild implanted in them.  Their eyes were glazed and twitching, and some were drooling.  By  Haar’s estimate, they  had only recently received the implants and in addition, they had been injected with Combat stimulants and painkillers.  Haar felt his blood boil.  The World Eaters had never made their aspirants undergo surgical implantation of the Butcher’s Nails, and one of the few Legion wide edicts the legion followed was not giving an aspirant combat drugs.  Not because an aspirant couldn't handle it with his Physiology, but because its effects messed with an aspirant’s adaptation to his knee implants.  He knew his former legion had sunk low, but how much further had they sunk?

           The aspirants carried unpowered axes, serrated knives and Gladii.  They didn’t have any Frag or Krak grenades, and only a few had pistols.

With a howl that could only come through pubescent throats just adopting their new gene- forged bodies, the aspirants charged with reckless abandon.  The few who had pistols aim was worse than ork.  Tekan’s shotgun rang three times, dropping a pair of them.  He drew two Bolt pistol and emptied their clips and another pair fell to blood soaked deck. By the time the aspirants were in melee range, only five remained.  They died even quicker than those who had been gunned down.  Haar punched one’s head clean off and back handed another, sending him spiraling to  deck.   Kal’s Crozius ended a third.  Tekan’s chainaxe ended the fourth. The final aspirant screamed “Blood for the Twelfth Legion! Skulls for Angron!” and launched himself at Haar with his gladius.  Haar mercifully ended his short life by tearing out his throat with his right hand, kneeing him in the groin and then crushing his head with a stomp.  Haar felt no satisfaction.  Only regret.  Not only because he ended the final aspirant’s life so brutally, but because no sane Legiones Astartes commander would put such poorly trained aspirants on the battlefield.  These children were no threat.  Even if they  weren’t forcibly taken from their families, the children were probably driven insane from the Butcher’s Nails embedded in their skills and their recently hypno-indoctrinated minds.  In short, Haar could have ordered his men not to kill them.  They could have knocked them out, taken them back to Terra and had the Butcher's Nails removed, properly trained and indoctrinated  them.

Haar looked at the aspirant he had just killed.  His gauntlet were still stained with the boy’s blood.

“Sorry boy.  Maybe in  a better galaxy we would have been brothers.  I’m sure you would have been a hell of a War Hound.”  Haar said aloud.

“Our father has a lot to answer for.” Boian said.  The death of the aspirants had hit him hard, perhaps harder than Haar.

“He’s not our father anymore.  He is a traitor.  When this madness is over I will bring his skull before the Emperor himself.” Haar snapped

Haar and his Blackshields encountered a handful of World Eaters and mortals on their way to  the bridge. To Haar’s relief, they did not encounter any more aspirants.  “Breaching charge.” Haar called.  The doors to the bridge were solid bronze dipped Adamantium and they would need explosives to breach  them.  Plus, no one had brought a lascutter.

The doors exploded in  a shower of sparks and flame.  Haar was the first through the breach.  Only six World Eaters were in the bridge.  There a couple of armsmen and the bridge crew itself.

Five of the six World Eaters were clad in Cataphractii pattern Terminator Armor.  The last one was a Centurion clad in Tartaros pattern Terminator Armor.  He had a Chainaxe in his left hand and a Thunder Hammer in his left.

“Endryd Haar.  Your name is a curse among the Legion. .” the Centurion said.

“That warms my heart.  Tell me your name traitor.” Endryd Haar.

“ I am Daken Matar. Centurion-Delegatus of the 126th Company.  And I will have the honor of bringing your head to Angron.”

“If you somehow manage to kill me you better do that with that toy you call an axe rather than that oversized mallet.” Haar said.  He began striding towards Daken, his Power fist servos flexing.

“ I will kill you and strap your body to the hull of my ship.”  Daken said.

“You are the fifteenth traitor to have said to me.” Haar said.

“And you will not the  first Eater of Worlds to have thought killing me would get you noticed by the primarch.”  Haar said.

Daken swung the Thunder Hammer down,

Haar rolled out of the way.  Daken swiped his Chainaxe, the teeth howling inches from Haar’s face.

Haar dodged the next swing from the Thunder Hammer.  He aimed his Archeotech Pistol and shot Daken in the chest. His next shot melted the head of his chainaxe.  Daken howled in fury and tossed the useless weapon aside and swung a left hook. The Butcher’s Nails were singing in his rotting brain and he lunged at Haar ready to smash him to a pulp.

Haar caught the shaft of the Thunder Hammer.  His Power Fist tightened around the weapons shaft. His right hand caught Daken’s fist.

Daken tried to overpower him. Haar struggled.  His armor servos whined in protest.  They were both grunting with effort.

“Tell me Captain Daken, do you really think killing me will give you Angron’s favor?  You and I both know it won't.  The primarch won't give a damn.  He’s a madman who should have died on his homeworld.”

“Silence traitor!”   Daken roared.

“You’re the traitor!  The primarch never cared about the legion.  The legion is just a pawn on Horus’ chessboard.”

“ I said silence!  You left the legion because you were a coward and because you craved glory!”

“You think I left the legion  for glory.  I left because when I returned from the edge of the Imperium, the legion  was soaked in its own brother’s blood and sundered oaths.  And I can see that even brotherhood no longer matters.”

“What are you talking  about?” Daken asked. His eyes were twitching.  He would be lost to the Nail's soon.

“ I’m talking about the aspirants.” Haar said.

Before Daken could  respond, Haar released his grip on the Thunder Hammer and drove his Power Fist  deep into Daken’s chest.  Flexing his fingers, Haar retracted his Power Fist, the remains of Daken’s liver held in his hand.

Daken screamed in pain and charged Haar with his bare hands.  Haar sidestepped him and drilled an energy  beam from his pistol into each kneecap. He then struck  Daken in the back with his Power Fist, shattering the powerpack to Daken’s Terminator Armor.

He then rammed his Power Fist deep into Daken’s chest and pulled out a chunk of his spine.  Daken was screaming, trying to rise despite the weight of his crippled suit and missing  piece of spine.  Haar paused for a few seconds. The other Terminators and the bridge crew were dead.   Haar waited a full minute. Then he brought his Power Fist down and ended Daken’s agony.

The assault on the genatorum was a success.   One hundred and seven World Eaters and most of the crew had been slain.  The casualties were light . By Blackshields standards at least.  Twenty two Blackshields had fallen. Third-Two were injured. But only seven required the assistance of an Apothecary.

Now the remaining members of the Fangs of the Emperor  scoured the ship, taking any supplies and anything of value.

Haar, Boian and Kal were on their way to the engineering section when they receive a vox hail from Techmarine Erud Vahn.

“Endryd we have a problem .  Visual footage indicates five  unidentified. Blackshields and a Primus Medicae bearing heraldry for the IIIrd Legion in the apothecarium.  They’ve already locked down the area. I need you to intervene.”

“We’re on it Erud  Lock the ship down and put the Fangs on alert.”

“How did they get aboard the ship?” Kal asked.

“A better question is what are they doing here? I don't remember killing any Blackshields or any of Fulgrim’s peacocks.”  Boian said.

‘We’ll find out soon enough.”  Haar said as they stepped into the elevator that would take them to the Apothecarium.

“Perhaps these Blackshields are the reason Lord Malcador wanted us to  seize this ship.”  Kal said as they ascended.

The elevator chimed softly as the doors opened.

In front of them was the sealed door to the apothecium

“We should be in range of their squad vox.”

“Let's try  diplomacy first. They haven’t slain any of our brothers.” Kal said.

Haar sighed and put on his helm.  There was a crackle of vox chatter as Haar patched into the squad frequency.

“Attention unidentified Astartes. I am Endryd Haar, leader of the Fang’s of the Emperor.  I am not usually merciful but I am giving you one chance to come out with blades sheathed and guns to  the deck.    I’m sure you all had a good reason to  be on a traitor vessel, and not participate in the fighting.  I do not wish to slaughter fellow loyalists so-

Haar was interrupted by an aristocratic voice.

“This is Primus Medicae Titus Phovian of the  IIIrd legion.  I only wish to recover the data from this ships apothacarium the my comrade Master Apothecary Nuri Rathen of the Twelfth was gathering,    I have qualms with killing loyalists, but seeing as you're not Mannus’ ilk  I am  going to ask that you allow me to leave this ship and depart.  The Blade of Chemos is about ten minutes out and I wish to bring this data to Lieutenant Commander Fabius on time.  “

“One Moment. Primus Medicae.”  Haar. said.  He voxed Ella.

“Ella put all outbound flights to  the traitor vessel on hold and go to battle stations.  An enemy ship is about ten minutes out and we have some stragglers to deal with.”

“Erud already told me the situation, Praetor.”  Ella said.

“Be ready Flag-Captain. Haar out.”

“I’m guessing diplomacy will not the resolve this conflict?” Kal said.

“ No we’re be aggressively negotiating from here on out.” Haar said.

Kal sighed theatrically.

‘It has been sometime since I’ve slain a son of Fulgrim.” Kal said.

‘Chin up Chaplain, maybe the next traitors we’ll kill will be Word Bearers.” Boian said.

“ I can only pray.” Kal said.

Titus voxed Haar.

“I take it you gentleman are going to be reasonable and allow us passage?”  Titus said.

“No  we’re going to be very unreasonable, kill you, strip your weapons and armor and dump your bodies into the void.” Haar said,

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that,” Titus said.

“ Chin up Primus Medicae, maybe you’ll die with honor. “ Boian said over the vox..

Boian drew a Melta Bomb.

“Arm for 10 seconds, then toss a Photon Flash in,” Haar ordered

Boian set the charge.

The doors exploded and Boian lobbed the Photon Flash grenade in the room.

Kal, and Boian opened  fire with their Bolters  set to three round burst .  The five  Blackshields  dropped to floor each  one’s victim of headshots. Titus raised a Plasma Pistol, only to have it detonate in his hand from a bolt round from Boian.

Titus went for the combat knife at his belt, but paused when he realized he was staring down  the barrels of two boltguns and an Archeotech pistol.

“Start talking, and we might spare your miserable life.”

“As I explained before you barged in here and murdered my subordinates. I was here to recover data from my fellow Apothecary.”

“We’re going to need more than that.”  Haar said.

“Nuri and I were experimenting with Twelfth and Third legion gene-seed.  Enhancing it,   augmenting pain tolerance and speed.  Looking for ways to reduce implant rejection and accelerated synthesis.”

“Chymarie.” Boian said.

Haar surpresed a snarl.  There were a few  Astartes like that in the Fangs of the Emperor.  Space Marine who were unnaturally fast or some other trait, but at a cost.  Brain hemorrhages, aggressive cancers, spontaneous combustion  or worse.

“The Blackshields dead on the floor are former World Eaters and Emperor's Children.  They volunteered for augmentation.”  Titus said.

Haar strode past Titus and the dead Blackshields to a cogitator and what looked like a black coffin.

“What’s this?”  Haar growled.

“Storage for samples.”  Titus seemed nervous.

Haar opened the coffin.

Inside was a young girl about twelve Terran years.

She had long chocolate brown hair and skin the color of marble.  Her features were a natural beauty that Haar could tell was not sculpted.

“Samples eh?”  Haar said.

He turned to face Titus.

“Be grateful I need you alive.” Haar said.

Then he broke Titus’ nose with a punch.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Let's go over this again traitor. Your legion was exchanging gene-seed data with the World Eaters and successfully produced Gene-Seed that combined traits from the World Eaters and Emperor's Children Gene-seed that could theoretically could produce a stronger Astartes with a minimal chance of implant rejection. Correct?” Kal said softly.

“That’s correct.” Titus said.

The Emperor’s Children’s face was a mass of precision knife cuts courtesy of Boian. Haar had broken his nose again.

“Why'd you combine World Eaters Gene-seed with your own legion’s? Wouldn't it taint your “Perfect” Gene-seed?” Boian asked.

“On the contrary, The World Eaters Gene-Seed was most suited for the augments we wanted to add and the accelerated implantation in hosts. In addition it had the lowest rate of implant rejection after the Sons of Horus and Iron Warriors, both which were rejected due to difficulties in combining the samples. Chief Apothecary Bile decided that the World Eaters gene seed was perfect for this project.” 

“What role does to that girl in that stasis coffin play in this little project of yours?” Haar asked.

“She is someone my master has been looking for a very long time. You see, before we found her, this project was all theoretical. To borrow a mortal phrase. A wet dream. But you see Ruri and I found this girl when we were attacking a world.. She was the daughter of all some imperial noble Daken killed and her genetic profile indicates she is a perfectly compatible match to our hybrid Gene-Seed.” 

“You don't mean to-

“ Oh yes, she would be our first test subject. The Blade of Chemos was supposed to pick me up and take the girl and I to Master Bile’s workshop. He was to supervise her implantation personally. And considering the girl is young and healthy, with excellent physical traits…” 

Haar put the pieces together.

“I remember a time when your legion would condone such acts.” Haar said

“My legion?” Titus said incredulously “It was Gahlan Surlak, Master of Induction for your legion who proposed the project to Master Fabius.” Titus said.

Haar was silent. 

“We'll have some more questions for you later.” Haar said.

“I won't be going anywhere.” Titus said.

Haar, Boian and Kal left the cell.

“I can't believe the traitors really are that desperate.” Boian said.

“Of course they are. With the loss of Bodt to Autek Mor and his Iron Hands and the heavy casualties they regularly sustain, our former brothers will do anything to keep the legion’s numbers up. And Horus knows every Astartes he loses is one he won't have at Terra. The bastard knows the scales are balancing out. “ Haar said.

The three strode through the hallways of the the Tyrannis. The Tyrannis’ hallways were empty. When they weren’t in battle, the mortal crew was sleeping like the dead.

With the exception of Ella who shot them a glare that could bore through Terminator Armor as the three Astartes walked into the apothecarium. 

“Remind me why I’m here again and not in my nice warm bed?” she asked out loud. The Flag Captain was clad in a plain white slip, wool slippers and an oversized fur shawl. He hair was free of the braid it had been for hours and her blood red locks tumbled past her shoulders in a messy sprawl. 

“ Because you are a woman, Flag-Captain. The trauma this girl probably endured means she might have a rather violent reaction to four Astartes.” Apothecary Danek said as he checked the readouts on the old cogitator that was hooked up to the stasis coffin.

Like Haar and Boian, Danek had been inducted long before the Twelfth Legion became War Hounds . Danek was dark of skin, and his face a mix of scars, stitches and burns. What patches of hair he had leff was sloppily cut, almost like it had been done with a combat knife.The good apothecary was missing his right ring finger and his left eye was a bionic. His right eye was the the red rimmed one of someone who had spent a good portion of their career around rad weaponry. His body was all but broken, held together by artificially replaced organs, bionics and a desire for vengeance. The right side of his throat was a partial augmetic due to phosphex burns . This also had required the removal of his Betcher’s Gland. The lower right side of his chest was all bionic organs and metal ribs. One of his three lungs and part of his Osetic kidney had been blown to bits. One lung was partially collapsed and kept working because of a device attached to his chest plate that pumped oxygen directly to it. His Multi Lung had been poisoned by radiation and Death Guard chemical weapons. One of his Progenoid Glands had been destroyed as well. His right shoulder had a Rotor Cannon round embedded in it. His body, his right leg in particular was a mass of tumors from aggressive cancers. Worse his Larraman’s organ was slowly breaking down and not healing his body as quickly as it use too. His Mark III Power armor was as broken as his body. He had long disposed of the right gauntlet and he had replaced his right shoulder pad with a piece of Scout armor. His left thigh-plate was held together by two crossed chains. His left Pauldron was carpeted with molecular bonding studs and there was plenty of cracks that had been filled with solvent. Deep gouges covered nearly every surface of the armor and much of the original black paint was now gunmetal grey. Dried blood dotted the armor as well.

Erud said he would repair the armor one day, but he had never gotten around to it. 

Danek limped over to the Cogitator, the right leg joint of his armor sparked a little bit.

“We're readyEndryd.” Danek said.

“Do it.” Haar said.

Danek nodded and pressed a switch . 

Steam hissed and pistons fired. The cover of the Stasis-Coffin retracted . 

“Vitals are green so far. Brain activity is speeding up. Her core body temperature is rising .” Danek said.

The girl rose from the coffin like she was waking from a nightmare. Her eyes, a deep brown the color of freshly tilled soil or chocolate darted around the room . 

‘“Where am I? Who are you?” she said. 

“Calm yourself child. We mean you no harm.” Danek said in a soothing tone.. This was rather difficulty, as a throat ravaged by cancers and partially augmetic didn’t lend itself to a comforting voices. 

“Can you tell us your name?” Danek asked. 

“It's Vesta sir. Vesta..” 

The girl put a hand to her head.

“Headaches?” Danek asked.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry, but I can't remember anything. I don't even remember my last name. “

“That’s alright. I am sure your memories will return in time. I am Apothecary Danek. The other Astartes you see are Praetor Endryd Haar, Chaplain Kal Jakar and Sergeant Boian Traven. The woman is Flag Captain Ella Thylin.” 

“I. It’s nice to meet you. Forgive me for asking, but I don't know what legion you're from.”

“We left our legions behind us. We are Blackshields. Space Marines who remained loyal to the Emperor and the Imperium while our brother became traitors. “ Haar said softly. 

“ Traitors. I remember the Emperor's Children. They and the World Eaters came to- “ Vesta put her hand on her head.

“ Don't worry about trying to remember Vesta. We're going to our best to help you. Can you step out of the coffin?” Haar asked with a gentleness in his voice that surprised himself.

“ Yes. “ She rose and then paused.

“Apothecary Danek, do- do you have some clothes for me?” she asked timidly. Vesta wrapped her arms across her developing chest.

It was in that moment that the three Astartes and Ella realised the girl was naked.

“ I knew I was forgetting something.” Danek said.

 

After Ella wordlessly handed Vesta her shawl. Kal had gone down to the supply a room and returned. with a set of grey robes and some boots. The robes didn't exactly fit, but they would do until they could get her measured for some better clothing.

Danek had given her a physical, taken blood and tissue samples and pronounced her in good health. Albeit partially amnesiac . He also explained why the traitors wanted her.

“ Your memory must have wiped before they put you in the Stasis casket. Probably in the misguided notion that it would reinforce your hypno-indoctrination. Which it does not. I can't promise your entire memory will return, but some should come back to you over time.”

Kal and Endryd had then taken her to the cafeteria and watched her scarf down a surprising amount of food. It was quite amusing to see, as Vesta was trying to be dainty and have good manners,while trying to get as much food in her mouth as possible. 

After that they the taken her to the Tyrannis’ seamstress, Philone. Philone had been a civilian, an old woman whose world and husband had been lost to the traitors. She sewed and mended the garments and assisted in other duties aboard the ship. She was a fine old lady full of wisdom and had a tongue as sharp as a Chainsword. 

Philone took some measurements and soon had seven robes produced for Vesta. 

Unlike Vesta’s ill-fitting and baggy grey robe, the robes Philone spun for her,were made of the same beige cloth meant for a Remembrancer’s robes and fit her perfectly.

“You’ll fit in just fine at Terra.” Haar said.

“Terra!” Philone exclaimed.

“ We need to speak with Lady Arlette Philone, the traitors want Vesta and we need to plan a course of action . “

“You'll need a better outfit if you're going to Terra girl!” Philone said. She held up a strip of purple cloth and scrutinized Vesta.

“The robes you made me are fine Lady Philone.” Vesta said shylly.

Philone glared at Vesta. It was a glare that even Haar found intimidating. 

“Nonsense Vesta! You're meeting with Lady Arlette herself! She’s aTribune of the Legio Custodes You need some much more regal looking than that! Besides I’ve been wanting to make something nice for a long time. Especially since the Flag-Captain won’t let me make anything nice for her.”

“You do know the Flag-Captain doesn’t appreciate your unsubtle attempt at finding her a date.” Kal Jakar said.

“Hmph, mark my words, Ella will come down here asking me to weave her something nice for a date she has with some nice lad or lass, maybe even an Astartes. Throne knows this ship is big enough to them to find a place to have a date and -”

“We do have a twelve year old present.” Kal said.

‘It’s alright. I know what she’s talking about. Ms. Thyln is a nice lady, i’m surprised she hasn’t found someone yet.” Vesta said.

The three Astartes stared at the young maiden.

“I’m an amnesic twelve year old girl, not an idiot.” Vesta said.

Philone cackled.

It was agreed upon by Haar and the Blackshields that Vesta should have her own room in the Astartes quarters. There had been an unused room right across from Haar that she could use. This also was so in the unlikely event they were boarded Haar and the others could quickly defend her. Plus if she needed medical attention, Danek would be close at hand. The cot was sized for an Astartes, and Vesta declined an offer for a human sized one. 

Vesta had a pillow, a brown wool blanket and a thick quilt that was a mosaic of colors. She lay there for a while. Then she had fallen asleep rather quickly.

Unfortunately her dream that night were anything but pleasant

.  
“My lord the walls have been breached. The traitors are now inside the capital,” Lord Marshall Marcus Quintus said.

Vesta’s father Justinian Augustus, Imperial Governor of Byzas Longa, sighed.

He asssesed the tactical hololiths., sighed again and looked at her and her brother. 

“Theodosius! Look after my children. Get them to the starport. The time has come for me to meet Horus’ whelps blade to blade.” 

Theodosius, Captain of the Praetorian Guard made the pre-unity salute. He was a huge man. A Gene-enhanced man like the rest of her father’s bodyguard. Some in the court whispered he had once been a Thunder Warrior. 

The five members of the Praetorian Guard were clad in Void-Hardened Carapace Armor. They carried Volkite Chargers and had power weapons sheathed at their side.

“Father “-her brother, Trajan began.

“You and your sister look after each other Trajan. And do not cause mischief for old Theodosius,” he said, his tone light as he unsheathed his Paragon Blade

“You're going to your death father.” Vesta said

 

“You have your mother’s bluntness Vesta. Yes I am. I will not cower in my palace while these traitors slaughter my people. And someone must rally the remaining militia and Solar Auxilla to buy time for the last of the civilians and yourself to escape.”

“But father.”

“Vesta you and your brother, are my legacy. Children like yourself will be the future of this Imperium. As long as you live the fires of the Imperium will keep burning. The heart of mankind will not be snuffed out by Horus and his ilk.”

“I love you both. I cannot tell you how proud I am to have such wonderful and intelligent children. I know you both will accomplish great things. “

Vesta could tell Trajan was holding back tears. 

Justinian smiled and hugged them. Than Theodosius led them the underground escape route in the palace.. 

Vesta never saw her father again,

 

The traveled for about 10 minutes underground, although it felt much longer to Vesta. They climbed up a ladder and emerged just outside the starport. The small warp-capable skiff lay a few meters away.

Vesta heard screams and the sound of Bolter and lasfire in the distance.

She drew her Volkite Serpenta, it's weight a comforting presence. Trajan drew his Power Sword.

“Greetings.” a rich cultured voice said. The voice belonged to an Astartes. An apothecary of the Emperor’s Children. Standing next to him was another apothecary clad in the blood stained white and blue colors of the World Eaters. Behind them was five Palatine Blades of the Emperor’s Children and ten World Eaters Tactical Marines. 

The Praetorian Guard leveled their Volkite Chargers. Trajan didn't stand in front of Vesta, which was good. She didn’t want her overprotective brother blocking her line of fire. 

“ Allow to me introduce myself. I am Titus Phovian. You must be Justinian Augustus’ children. You should be proud. He slew three of my Palatine Blades and five World Eaters before Centurion Daken removed his head.” the Apothecary said in an oddly polite tone.

The World Eaters apothecary signaled to his men . 

The ten World Eaters charged, Chainaxes raised high.

Theodosius and the Praetorian Guard cut half of them town with their Volkite Chargers before they got into melee range. Theodosius killed one with his Power Axe before they hacked him into pieces. Two members of the Guard took another with them into death’s embrace . That left three to charge the two youths.

Vesta dropped one with a clean headshot. The second one took two shots to the face before his twisted soul left his body. 

The third Eater of Worlds met his end at Trajan’s Power Sword. Trajan had rammed his sword deep into his throat.

He withdrew it and shook the thick transhuman blood off the sizzling power field.

“That was unexpected. “ The World Eaters Apothecary said gruffly.

One of the Palatine Blades stepped forward and Vesta shot him in the chest. He fell to ground with a thud.

“Who’s next!” Vesta shouted. She sounded a lot braver than she felt.

The World Eater Apothecary charged them. He was a blur as he raised his Chainaxe. Trajan lunged forward, his Power Sword held in both hands.

The Apothecary’s blow sent Trajan’s Power Sword skidding out of his hands. He struck Trajan with the back of his chainaxe. The blow sent him flying into the ground . He did not rise again.

Vesta leveled the Volkite Serpenta at the apothecary, before a hand wrapped around the back of her throat and lifted her up. The Volkite Serpenta slipped out of her hands.

She grunted in pain as she felt a needle dig into her neck. She heard the device on Titus’ gauntlet chime . 

“ Ruri my friend, today must be our lucky day.” 

“What are you talking about?” Vesta said.

“You. Don’t worry my dear, Ruri and I going to take good care of you. “

Before Vesta could question him further, Titus extended his Narthecium. She felt something sting her neck. Then everything went black. 

 

Vesta woke up screaming. It all had come back to her. The death of her world Her time in that monster Titus’ hands. Watching her brother be turned into a mindless killing machine. The needles and tubes as Titus poked and prodded at her. His cruel whispers and how his hand would stroke her hair . 

She sobbed. Part of her wanted to hold her tears back, but she couldn't. She cried and cried and cried.

When she ran out of tears to shed she rose and wrapped the brown wool blanket around herself and stood up. She walked out of her room and found herself standing outside Haar’s door. Without thinking, she knocked on the door.

Haar answered. Unlike Vesta, who wore a blue nightgown and had wrapped herself in her blanket, Haar was naked but for a loincloth.

Vesta couldn't help but stare.

Haar’s physique was amazing, even by Astartes standards. Regular combat, rounds in the fighting pits and long gymnasia sessions during interstellar voyages had has left him with a body any mortal and more than some Astartes would kill for.

Vesta blushed. Haar just stared. 

“ Can I sleep with you tonight? I… I don't want to be alone.“ She asked.

“Danek said this might happen. I'm assuming you had a nightmare?” Haar asked.

Vesta nodded.

“Did you memories return?“ he asked.

“Yes.” Vesta said. She looked so frail. The blanket she wrapped herself in dwarfed her.

“Do you want me to wake Danek? am sure he has sleeping medication.” Haar asked.

“No! No sedatives. I don’t need them. “ Vesta said with a fierceness that surprised him.

Haar felt something like pity but he squashed the feeling. To pity this girl after all she endured would be disrespectful.

Without a word he let Vesta in his quarters.

Haar’s quarters were plain. There was a cot, foot locker, and rack for Haar’s wargear. The World Eaters were never big on ornamentation and any trappings from Haar’s former legion had been removed. The large desk and chair that had been sized for an Astartes had not been used for some time. 

Haar made room for Vesta on his cot. She snuggled close to him and in seconds she was asleep. 

The voyage to Terra was three weeks. Vesta spent much of her time helping crew members with various tasks aboard the ship. Her free time was filled with medical check ups at Daken’s hands, being fitted for various clothes with Philone and reading. The Tyrannis had a rather nice library and Vesta enjoyed the solitude it offered. Kal Jakar and Boian often joined her. Kal asked if she wanted to go to the Mass he held aboard the ship, Vesta went a few times out of politeness, but the Lectitio Divinitatus didn't really appeal to her. (She did remember her father turning a blind eye to it on Byzas Longa.) 

Boian often made jokes. Sometimes really dirty ones that made her laugh so hard she cried. 

And then there was the fighting pits.

While the Blackshields utterly rejected their previous legions and traditions, including the spoken and written languages they once used, old habits died hard. Many of the Fangs of the Emperor. Were former World Eaters, and sparring was a good way to vent anger and grief. In addition it, settled conflicts and rivalry and was good for morale. The mortal crew loved to bet on the fights. 

 

The arena was a section of the vehicle storage bay that had been unused for quite sometime. Empty ammo crates formed a ring. Chairs and other empty crates acted as seating for the spectators. . A few jars of olive oil that had been borrowed from the kitchen had been laid out for those who wished to anoint themselves before a match.

Kal Jakar was refereeing. Karanthus stood beside him ready to intervene if a match became to the death rather than to third blood. 

Vesta liked watching the matches. It was interesting seeing an astartes fight. The spectacle, the brotherhood. The jokes and curses, all were entertaining and so interesting. .

Vesta’s seat, nicknamed the “Kathisma” or royal box, by the Blackshields was two ammo crates stacked atop each other with a blanket laid atop it. It gave her an excellent view of the matches.

Right now it was Boian and a Blackshield named Gorrivan, were sparring. Gorrivan held a chainsword in one hand, a chainaxe in the other. Boian held a Power axe. Both warriors wore loincloths and their. Gorrivan had already taken two blows. Boian was untouched.

Gorrivan made an overhead swipe with his chainaxe while simultaneously stabbing with his chainsword. Boain sidestepped him and raked his power axe across his back. 

“Third blood.” Kal Jakar said.

Gorrivan growled but the two shook hands.

“Next time Boian.” He growled.

“Of course.” Boian said with a smile.

“Who’s next?” Boian called.

As Vesta observed the next match. As she saw these transhumans, these living weapons cheer laugh, and curse. She wondered, what had made them a family? These men were all from different legion’s, different cultures. Was it because they were outcasts? Was it because they had stayed loyal and true when others went astray? Was it all of it or none of it? 

Vesta could have asked, but she was content to wait. Something told her that she would get wildly different answers. It would be better to observe and interact with these men, these pariahs and she’d find the answer herself.. After all, with her world and family dead, she was like them now, an orphan of war and betrayal.

 

Terra.

Humanity’s cradle. Humanity’s mother. Without her the human race would not exist. Without her, the Legiones Astartes would not exist. 

 

Terra was the most important world in the Imperium of Man. No other world rivaled it in its splendor or glory. 

Being the impending target of Horus’ invasion Terra was now a fortress world. The vast fleet of the VII legion, the Imperial Fists, circled it like wolves. Thousands of vessels of various classes, from corvettes and frigates to the Five Gloriana class battleships that surrounded the Phalanx, the massive vessel that the Imperial Fists called home. A circle of orbital defense stations and star forts ringed the planet.

A single Storm Eagle gunship descended. It bore no markings apart from the scars of war and the old bloodstains on its hull. It was black as night itself. 

“Our clearance code has been accepted.” Fabius said.

Haar surveyed the people he brought with him. 

Blackshields didn't have formal Command Squads and these were a rather rough honor guard. They sure as Hell wouldn't pass a parade ground inspection.

Harr had has brought Danek, Boian and Kal Jakar. Vesta had come as well. She looked more like the noble she was rather than the scared waif they had awoken from a stasis coffin.

Vesta wore a white Stola with Grecian style sandals. In addition, she wore a purple Palla with a freshly polished Aquila clasp. Haar noted it was an older one that clutched lightning bolts in its talons. Her hair was unbound and her brown hair fell nearly to her waist. She wore no jewelry and had no makeup, but she was beautiful. Perhaps more beautiful the so called “nobles” of the Imperial Court.

“Nervous?” Boian asked.

If Vesta was nervous she hid it well. She didn’t fiddle with her clasp or fidget. She looked straight ahead.

“A little. I mean this is Terra. And we're going to the Imperial Palace ” Vesta said.

“Trust me it get’s boring after a few visits.” Boian said.

Kal Jakar looked like he was going to launch into his “This is Holy Terra, the birthplace of our species” rant, but he remained silent . 

Haar looked outside the viewport and scowled.

“Aella is late.” Haar said.

“She is a little girl.” Kal Jakar said.

“The ligo aetes are never late.” Haar sat.

“There’s always a first time for everything Endryd.” Boian said.

“Little eagles?” Vesta asked.

“Custodes in training. They’re mostly young children, but there are a few around your age or older.” Haar supplied.

“I’m surprised you know Grecian.” Danek said with a cough.

“Byzas Longa, my homeworld spoke a dialect of Grecian before the coming of the Emperor, It was still used in court along with High Gothic. My father would switch to it in the middle of a conversation to help me and my brother learn it.” Vesta said in perfect Grecian.

“Well i’ll be damned.” Boian said with a smile. Boian smiled a lot. It gave him an opportunity to show off his Iron teeth.

“Your soul already is.” Kal Jakhar said in a voice as dry as the desert he was born in.

The two laughed as the ramp opened and they stepped out of the Storm Eagle. 

They paused when they came face to face with a Legio Custodes. He stood between them and the entrance to the Inner Palace. The Custodian’s body language indicated great displeasure, though in Haar’s opinion, most Custodian’s body language indicated great displeasure.

“Halt.” The Custodian said.

Haar paused. He recognized that voice. 

Prefect Diocletian.

“We are agents of the Imperium and we come being news for Lady Arlette.” Haar said.

“Your kind are not welcome here Blackshield. Neither is the girl you bring.” Diocletian said.

“Why do you deny us passage? We are both warriors of the God-Emperor and we bear the blessing of your Tribune.” Kal Jakar said.

“Silence Word Bearer. The Emperor has forbidden the referral to him as a God. Speak that word again and I will remove your head from your body.” Diocletian said.

In hindsight. Kal Jakar shouldn't have mentioned the God-Emperor, but Diocletian would have stopped them and made the threat. anyway. The Prefect was quite frankly, a dick. Haar knew he did not trust them, and he had probably delayed Aella with some meaningless task like retrieving headlight fluid for the Grav-Rhinos. Haar honestly no idea why Diocletian had delayed them or why he disliked them. You think the Emperor’s own Equerry vouching for them would give them some slack. Haar was pretty sure Malcador’s band of misfits didn't have to deal with this. 

Haar decided he had enough. As much as he wanted to rip out the Custodians spine, he’d settle this with words.

“Praetor.” Haar said with all the cold rage and authority he could muster.

“I’m sorry?” Diocletian said. 

“My rank is Praetor, Prefect. You may also address me as Reaver Lord if you prefer. We report directly to Lady Arlette and the Emperor himself. While you are well within your authority to stops us. I believe your reasons for stopping us are personal and not for security reasons. My brothers and I have stayed loyal while our legions turned traitor. We are willing to sacrifice ur lives for this Imperium. Not for honor or glory, but for duty and vengeance. This girl you so casually dismissed, has suffered more than any girl her age should have. She has lost her family and her world. The IIIrd legion plans to do unspeakable thing to her. Our own brothers and our primarch’s betrayed us, soaked their blades in our blood. And you dare question our loyalty! You dare to question our honor and commitment to this Imperium! To our Emperor!” 

Diocletion was about to reply, but Haar cut him off.

“Now I want you to stand there Prefect Diocletion, in that golden armor of yours and extend some fracking courtesy to myself, my brothers and this girl.” Haar said.

Haar had a feeling he wanted to draw his Misericordia and strike him down. 

Than the sound of scampering feet was heard.

“I'm so sorry!” an eight year old voice said.

A blur of red and gold dashed pass Diocletian. 

“It is alright Lady Aella.” Kal Jakar said. The Chaplain made the sign of the Aquila.

Aella was a young girl, a few weeks shy of her ninth birthday. She wore the red with gold trim robes of the Legio Custodes Her hair was a black and silky,and she wore it in a braid with a silver and jade hairpin. 

“Lady Arlette sends her compliments Praetor Haar. I’m here to take you to the Tranquil Courts.” Aella said in an imitation of a rather regal and important sounding tone.

Aella looked at Vesta.

“Hi! I’m Aella! What's your name?” Aella said this with all the enthusiasm an eight year old girl possessed.

“Vesta.” Vesta replied.

“You're very pretty. I like your Palla.” Aella said.

She turned to lead them to inside.

“Aella,could you wait a moment. Prefect Diocletian needs to tell me something.” Haar said.

“Sure!” Aella said cheerfully.

Haar looked at Diocletian.

Haar could tell Diocletian was gritting her teeth beneath his helm.

“I apologize for my rudeness Praetor.”

“Not just me.” Haar said. He gestured to Kal Jakar.

“I apologize for my unkind words, Chaplain. I hope I have not offended you.”

“Think nothing of it. The Emperor's blessing be upon you Prefrect.” Kal Jakar said. He made the sign of the Aquila. For politeness sake, Diocletian returned it.

Diocletian turned to Vesta.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, My Lord. It's a honor to be here.” Vesta said.

“You're too kind for your own good, girl.” Danek said with a laugh.

“We’re ready to proceed Aella.” Haar said.

Aella smiled, waved goodbye to Diocletian and led them into the Imperial Palace.

 

The Tranquil Courts was perhaps the only part of the Imperial Palace not fortified. An eye of peace and beauty in a storm of iron and stone. 

Tribune Arlette Augusta Amon Rakaposhi Gorro was waiting for them in a spacious patio.

Arlette was a rather striking woman with brown skin and black hair that stopped at her shoulders. She wore red robes with fur and gold trim. She held an old graphite pencil in her hand.

The square table she sat at was carpeted with paperwork.

The table style was one he did not recognize. Although, Haar did not have an Emperor’s Children or Thousand Sons, skill in recognizing furniture. It was strangely low, and her seat was directly on the ground 

She looked up from the parchment she was scribbling on. Writing implements of various types lay in easy reach. Everything from pencils and various types of pens to monoquills.

Arlette smiled at Aella as she bowed.

“Hello Aella, did Diocletian delay you?” 

“Yes my lady, Prefect Diocletian was grumpier than usual.” Aella said with a pout that was more adorable than annoyed.

“It’s probably because we're here,we’re not exactly good little boys compared to Dorn’s little builders.” Boian said.

Aella giggled and Arlette smiled.

 

Haar gestured to Vesta. 

“Lady Arlette, this is Vesta Augustus, the heir to the Imperial governorship of Byzas Longa.” 

“She’s a friend of ours.” Boian said.

It’s an honor, my lady.” Vesta said with a bow. 

“The honor is mine, the Emperor and I enjoyed our time on Byzas Longa.” Arlette said.

Haar watched the two women make eye contact.

This was not merely the meeting of two women, this was the meeting of two queens.

One who was young and recently crowned, ready to take her throne and do her duty. The other, older and more comfortable in her role. One who had done all her king and subjects asked for and more. 

“Aella could you bring my guests and I some tea?” Arlette asked.

“Yes ma'am. What kind of tea do you want?” She asked.

“My usual.” Arlette said.

“Black.” Haar said.

“Lemon,one cream,milk and two sugars.” Danek said 

“Black with three sugars.” Boian said.

“Green tea.” Kal Jakar said.

“Black one sugar.” Vesta said.

Aella scampered off.

Arlette gestured for them to sit.

Haar sat directly across from Arlette. Kal Jakar sat to his right, Boian on his left. Vesta sat next to Boian, while Danek sat next to Kal Jakar. 

Aella returned with a platter laden with mugs of tea.

Haar caught the whiff of cinnamon as Aella distribute the tea.

Haar sipped his tea. After months of recycled water, the tea was a rare treat. He could tell his brothers and Vesta enjoyed the tea immensely.

The woman who saved his life enjoyed her tea immensely as well.

Some compared Arlette to the Roman goddesses Bellona, or the Grecian goddess Pallas Athena, but no such comparison could be made in person.

She was beautiful in her own unique way. She radiated an overwhelming power and grace that rivaled, even surpassed, a Primarch. No one could stand before her without to urge to kneel and prostrate themselves. No one could draw a blade or Bolter to harm her without dying. Either at her hands, or the Emperor’s himself.

She was, in many many ways, the ideal woman. 

Haar knew that if it wasn't for Arlette’s backing of the Fangs of the Emperor, they wouldn't have been able to inflict so much damage on the traitors. The Tyrannis wouldn't have been able to be refitted and resupplied. The Sigillite would not have shared his Intel. The Fangs now had an opportunity to die a glorious death that would be remembered by loyal and traitor alike.

“I trust your mission was successful?” Arlette said.

“The Word Eater’s 126th Company has been informally disbanded and a plot that could tip the balance in the traitor’s favor has been discovered. “

“And what does this plot entail exactly?” Arlette asked with a sip of her tea.

“Unsanctioned Legions Astartes implantation and indoctrination methods, tampering with blessed gene-seed and the utter damnation of the souls.” Kal Jakar said.

“What Chaplain Jakar means is that the Emperor’s Children have created enhanced hybrid gene-seed designed to maximize the positive traits of both World Eaters and the Emperor’s Children with a high compatibility rate and a minimum chance of implant rejection. They are also enhanced via genetic data and sample recovered from Blackshield Astartes referred to as Chymarie. Lady Vesta here was to be first test subject. We recovered one of the apothecaries responsible and we’d like to transfer him to the Silent Sisterhood. for interrogation.”

“We’d also like to arrange for protection and sanctuary for Vesta. We also need some more supplies and a couple of fresh crewmen. “ Haar said.

“ The first request I can grant. The second I must deny. The Ten-Thousand must remain at the palace. Like the Sigillite and the Knights-Errant, we are fighting our own Silent War and the casualties have not been light. I cannot spare the Custodes. The Emperor's safety cannot be jeopardized While there are those in the Imperial Court who could provide sanctuary, Alpharius and his sons are here on Terra, until Rogal deals with them, her safety cannot be guaranteed. A moving target is harder to hit, so Vesta will stay with you. As for supplies, the Hall of Weapons is open to you. Perhaps while you restock, you could find some weapons for Vesta here as well. In addition, if your looking for crewmen, many refugees have gathered in the Petitioner’s City, seeking to join the Imperial Army and Navy. I’m sure you will find willing recruits.” Arlette said.

“Thank you My Lady,” Haar said 

“You’re welcome Endryd.” she said with a smile.

Haar rose and brought his fist to his chest in the pre-unity salute. 

Arlette returned it.

 

The Hall of Weapons was like a toy store for an Astartes. While the Fangs could not access the sections reserved for the Custodes and the Silent Sisterhood, there was still plenty for them and their young companion.

Weapons were kept on racks or held in shining stasis-fields. Crates of ammunition were stacked under the racks. 

“I could spend decades in this place.” Boian said with a childish grin. He had taken a Phobos-pattern Bolter and about nine clips from one of the racks.

“I don’t doubt that.’ Kal Jakhar said.

Haar hadn’t touched anything, but he had watched Vesta as she browsed the racks.

Vesta had immediately grabbed a Volkite Serpenta, but she had stopped at a collection of swords. She hefted a chainsword and placed it back. She ignored the large two-handed weapons. She paused at the knives and grabbed a Power Knife sized for a mortal and a Chainknife. She also grabbed a digi-melta and slid it on her left ring finger.

She was smiling the whole time she had done this. 

This was the first time any of them had seen Vesta smile. 

She looked around some more and went to a small collection of blades and pistols in stasis fields.

She paused in front of a gladius in a stasis field.

“Blade.. Of the Hearth?” Vesta said reading the High Gothic inscription on the blade.

“Looks like an Albian Power Gladius, Shadrak Meduson has one of those. Some officers in the Fourteenth used to carry those.” Boian said.

“A few in the Seventeenth did as well.” Kal Jakar said.

Vesta pressed the key to disengage the stasis field and gently grasped the blade.

It came free from it’s stand with a soft shunk noise.

Vesta gave it a few swings and made a stabbing motion with the blade. 

It was in that moment that Harr saw Vesta in a different light.

He now longer saw her as an amnesiac waif or a young noblewoman. 

Now she was a warrior-queen.

Now she was ready to take her vengeance on the traitors who stolen everything from her.

And Haar and his Blackshields would gladly fight by her side.


	4. Chapter 4

“So how long do I have?” Danek asked.

“Six Terran months.” Apothecary-Captain Asclepias Phoebus Reticulus said.

“You really need to work on your bedside manner Custodes.” Danek said with a laugh.

“You are an Astartes, not a mortal, and not a Ligo aetos going through accelerated aging and enhancement. “ Asclepias said dryly.

Asclepias’ was quite different from Danek. He was pale and blond with sea-green eyes. He was quite handsome.

Danek knew Asclepias’ dry tone was his way of coming to terms with the fact that his closest friend was going to be dead in less than a year.

He grunted in pain as Asclepias injected him with another shot. Everytime he visited Asclepias,he needed more shots. Fresh Larraman’s cells, antibiotics, stimulants and more.

He grunted again as he felt soft but calloused hands gently remove the covering of the bionics that made up half of his chest . 

“At least the bionics are holding up.” Asclepias said.

“That’s not the only thing holding up.” Danek said with a smile.

Danek’s bionic eye had been modified to assess medical data,and Asclepias’ heart rate had increased.

“ I should get you fitted for that augmetic leg first.” The Custodes replied.

“And how long will that take?” 

“Not long. And Aella won't back for an hour.” Asclepias said.

Danek smiled. 

 

The Petitioner’s City was huge . 

Vesta felt like she could spend days here and only scratch the surface of the city. The architecture was so diverse, the people were so varied. Different skin tones, different clothing. It was like nothing she had seen, not even on Byzas Longa,a world that had been on the crossroads between Segmentum Obscurus and Segmentum Solar. 

She saw vendors peddling their wares. Stands selling food, spices, clothing, books.

A man shoved a tray of chocolates in her face . Another held up a piece of green silk so sheer she could make out the man's acne from behind it.

She saw an ogryn hammering at a piece of Adamantium. She saw a team of Caucasian broadbacks hawling stone.

In the distance she could see the Himalazia mountains. 

“It’s good to be home.” Boian said.

“You’re from Terra?” Vesta asked.

“Aye, Haar, Danek and I were part of the first recruits for the Twelfth. Before we were World Eaters, before we were the War Hounds, were the just the Twelfth. Haar,Danek and I are the last of the Old Grey Legions. I was from Slavia. Haar was from Europa and I have no idea where Danek was from.” Boian said.

The crowds were thick. Lucifer Blacks, Administratum scribes, tech priests. Haar even saw a pair of Imperial Fists on patrol.

The stands and tightly packed streets soon gave way to the residential area. Two story houses and small stores dominated the area. 

Boian paused near one of them. Vesta smelled grilling meat and freshly baked bread.

Boian returned with a paper wrapped fresh off the grill steak in one hand and a jar of black olives in another. Vesta saw six more crammed in his ammo pouches.

“Kal Jakar may be armored physically and spiritually against corruption,but he loves olives. “ Boian said.

He took a bite of steak. Meat juice dribbled onto his gorget. Vesta saw Haar conversing with a man in ragged clothing. He handed him a red coin with the lightening and Eagle symbol of Unity.

“What’s that coin for?’ Vesta asked.

“Identification, the Administratum can’t identify every citizen on Terra, let alone alone the refugees that have been pouring in. That coin will get him to the Tyrannis without any Bureaucratic delay.” Boian said. The Blackshield finished his steak and chucked the paper wrapper in an already overflowing waste receptacle. He opened a jar of olives and popped a few in his mouth.

Vesta held out her hand, and Boian dropped a handful into her awaiting palm.

They continued to walk for a block and that entered a two story store.

Its sign read

Alessander Graves: Rogue Trader and collector. 

Haar opened the door. A bell chimed. 

The store was rather small, with a counter of dark wood and 

“ Endryd! It's been too long my friend! How can I be of service?” 

 

Haar actually smiled. 

“Any Astartes wargear you've managed to scavenge. And anything else that might catch our eyes.” 

Alessander Graves was an older man with slicked back silver hair and wild blue eyes. He wore a red and gold longcoat over a plain white dress shirt and blue pants with ornate silver shinguards. A Charnabal saber was sheathed at his hip and a plasma pistol in his shoulder holster.

“And you brought a young lady this time! I would have preferred Lady Philone, but I love meeting new people!” Graves said with a hearty laugh.

“My name is Vesta Augustus.” she said.

Graves bowed. 

“Alessander Graves, Rogue Trader and scounderal of Segmentum Obscurus at your service.”

He shook Vesta’s hand.

“You have a firm handshake my dear.” Graves said.

“Thank you sir.” Vesta said.

Graves laughed like a melodic horse. She found his laugh annoying,but she liked him much better than many of the Rogue Traders who had come into her father's court.

“In terms of Astartes wargear I don’t have much. I recovered some suits of MKIII power armor from one of the Corpse Grinders Destroyers. A few Bolters and Chainswords, some autocannons, and a couple of Plasma guns.”

“What kind of condition are they in?”

“It varies. Some are just worth their weight in scrap, others look fresh from Mars.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Boian asked.

“It’s your coin old friend.” Alessander said.

Boian nodded and strode to a room in the back of a store.

Alessander stared at Vesta.

“Oh! Before I forget, “ He led Vesta to a stasis field.

Inside was a suit of Power Armor. The chest and shoulders was clearly from a suit MK1 Thunder power that were adapted for a regular sized human. The legs pieces were Carapace armor. The gauntlets were smooth grey Ceramite, untouched by war. A purple cloak woven th gold with threads of gold was draped over the armor shoulders. 

It was the most beautiful thing Vesta had ever seen.

Haar felt his breath hitch,

“Is that-”

“A voidsheen cloak, aye.”

Alessander looked at Vesta.

“Well put it on lass! You're gonna be wearing it! For throne's sake you're running around with a Blackshield! You're going to need more protection than that pretty sword of yours.”

Before Vesta moved to deactivate the stasis field, she had to ask one question.

“Do you sell black paint?”

Refugee Camp TK57-1128-117-2224-A was just one of many refugee camps that had sprung up on Terra when the galaxy caught fire. The Emperor in his infinite wisdom had guided Kal Jakar here.

 

Laden with Rucksacks full of food that wasn't nutrient paste and liquid electrolyte packets, toys and clothing, Kal Jakar strode into the camp. 

Many of the refugees wore tattered clothing and had thin faces.

Kar Jakar wordlessly began distributing the supplies. 

There was fear on some of the faces. An Astartes, one in blackened armor distributing supplies ? In what universe did that happen? Astartes were gene-forged killers, murderers conquers. They burned worlds with a smile beneath the helms. 

When did Astartes show such compassion?

When did an Astartes act Human?

Once the supplies was distributed he walked among the camp, blessing the refugees. He taught children how to read. He helped clean the camp to prevent disease spreading.

As he was leading a small group of refugees in prayer, Kal heard the clanking of Ceramite on rough dirt.

It was an Imperial Fist. A veteran judging by the heraldic cross on his right shoulder pad. He bore the insignia of a breacher legionnaire, as if the boarding shield and modified Tigrus pattern bolter didn’t distinguish it. A Two handed Power Sword with a silver cross hilt rested in a scabbard of black Inwit leather Judging by his unit markings and laurel insignia the legionnaire was the sergeant of the 5th Breacher Siege Squad of the 30th company, 7th Battalion of the Second Shield Corp of the First Sphere. 

The Legionnaire removed his Mark III helm ,revealing a scarred face with close cropped black hair and eyes the color of Terra’s drained oceans. 

He reached into a bolt pistol magazine and removed a tattered Lectio Divinitatus chapbook.

“My Wall Brother believed in this faith. He prayed to the Emperor as he dyed to the poisoned blade of an Alpha Legionnaire. “

The Legionnaire's face curled.

“I wish to know more, I need guidance. Horus draws closer to Terra. I need to know Chaplain. Does He protect. Does the Emperor Protect?!”

Tears streaked down his face and great sobs racked the Space Marine’s body. A little girl no more than eight Terran years put a hand on his shoulder pad. She had the same blue eyes as him and long messy blond hair. She wore a blue dress and had a blue bow in her hair.

The Imperial Fist looked at the child than at Kal Jakar.

“He does protect. In ways you cannot possibly imagine. Tell me brother, what is your name?’

“It is Emetris, I am stationed at Daylight Wall.”

“Will you pray with us Emetris?” Kal Jakar asked.

Emetris looked around at the refugees, than at Kal Jakar.

 

“ I will Chaplain.”

 

Danek felt something burrowing under the sheets. His eyes snapped open. 

Asclepius was snuggled next to him . His breathing was steady.

Danek felt a cough in his throat and forced it down. He reached for the glass of water and the pills on a small bronze tray.

After, he got the water and pills down his burned throat he looked at the sheets and then held a hand under his nose. No blood on the clean white sheets or the furs. That was some improvement. 

He turned and his diminishing eyesight picked out little Aella laying next to Asclepius.

“How’d you get in here little one?” Danek asked

“Picked the lock. I learned to do that yesterday.”

“And how was today?” he layed back down. Aella snuggled next to him and engulfed herself in the pile of furs and cotton sheets.

“Paperwork, classes, The Emperor set his hair on fire again. Valdor and Lady Arlette were bickering again, Amon gave us some cake from the palace kitchens, We got to practice with our Guardian Spears again, but it wasn’t as fun because we weren’t shooting at Tribune Ra. ”

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll shoot at Prefect Diocletian.” Danek rasped. He’d half to get his augmetics checked tomorrow.

“ Maybe.” She said with a yawn.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

Danek felt warmth blossom in what was left of his chest.

“I am now.”


	5. Chapter 5

Endryd hated dreaming.

 

Sometimes his dreams were enjoyable, the early days of the Great Crusade, before Angron, before the Galaxy caught fire and he blackened his armor.

 

But most of the time his dreams were nightmares.  Memories he could never forget.   The first time he laid eyes on his gene-father.   Him and his Fangs, lost in the void beyond the edge of the Imperium, abandoned by an uncaring sire.   The first time he killed one of his traitorous kinsmen, when he still wore the bloodstained white and blue of the World Eaters.  

 

This dream was one he had been in before.  A black void filled with nothing but corpses, human and Astartes.alike.  .

 

A red creature, a species of xenos he didn’t recognize sat on a throne of skulls.  A black axe was propped up  next to the throne.

 

He offered him a skull.

 

“What do you want me to do with that xenos?” he asked.

 

The creature laughed and put the skull back into its throne.

 

It offered another one to him, and Endryd somehow knew that skull was  his gene-father’s.  

 

“No thanks, I’ll take his skull myself.”  Haar replied.

 

This was the fourth told time he had told the creature that.

 

The creature studied Haar.

 

Haar hated making eye contact with this creature.  The creature's eyes were black, it made him feel like he was staring down a bull about to charge him,

 

“I’m leaving now.” Haar said.

 

He awoke with a snarl.   Every dream he awoke from made him feel like he had just recovered from being lost to the Nails that no longer pulsed inside his skull.  He rose from his cot and walked over to his Power Armor.  He might as well wreck some combat servitors and work  the anger out.

 

The combat servitor collapsed with  a screech  and a shower of sparks.   Vesta panted, she had sparred against combat servitors before, but the ones used by the Legiones Astartes,  even on  the lowest difficult were quite the challenge. 

 

A challenge Vesta enjoyed.  The Blade of the Hearth was a remarkable weapon.   Unlike most Power Weapons Vesta had seen, the Blade of the Hearth’s power field was not blue crackling lightning that wreathed it’s leaf shaped blade,but a soft orange glow that occasionally sparked.     Vesta shifted her shoulders, she had never worn Power Armor before, but she quickly adjusted.   As for her bladework, she had experimented with what kind of melee weapon would suit her since she was 10.   She lacked her brother’s natural talent with  the long arming sword, but a shorter blade like the Albian Power Gladius suited her more practical and pragmatic style.  

 

She turned and saw  Haar in his Power Armor.  “I guess I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.” She greeted. “You’re right.” Haar replied.   “Nightmares?” She asked.   “Yes.” Haar said.  Vesta sat on  a bench sized for a Space Marine and watched as Haar dismantled some of the combat servitor’s Vesta hadn’t destroyed with his Power Fist.   This continued  for about five minutes, and then Haar paused, and ordered the remaining combat servitors to  be shut down.   He than sat down next to Vesta.  

 

“So how’ve you been?” Haar asked,  “That’s how you start a conversation?” Vesta said with  a smile.   “Most of the time.” Haar said.  Vesta sensed that he was making a sincere effort to be kind, and trying to take his mind off of something.  “I’m doing fine.  I saw the Imperial Palace and met the Emperor’s own Equerry.  That was a pretty good birthday present.  I’ve gotten better with my bladework, and I’m alive, so  that’s good.”   “For Blackshields, being alive is always good.”  Haar said. He paused, and then his eyes lit up.  “I was unaware it was your birthday, why didn’t you say anything?”   Haar saw a flash of emotional pain across the young woman’s face.  “I didn’t want to  bother you, and like  I said, I saw the Imperial Palace, I met the Emperor’s Equerry, and I have some shiny new wargear, that’s good enough for me.”

 

Silence passed between them

 

“Endryd, how exactly did you wind up working directly for the Emperor’s Equerry?” 

 

“When my command and I were betrayed by our brothers, I swore a death oath to  atone for my Legion’s crimes.  I blackened my armor and hunted my former kinsman.  After this one boarding action  near Segmentum Solar, we ran in Malcador himself.  He offered me a position as one of his Knights-Errant.”

 

“What did you tell him?” Vesta asked.

 

“I told him to take his offer and shove it up his pruny old ass. If I was going to die, I was going to  do it on my own terms for the brothers and sisters who died at the hands of those they once fought alongside.  Not for the Emperor who let a madman who should have been mercy-killed lead my Legion.  Not for an Imperium that saw us as killing machines, and certainly not for Malcador Fracking Sigillite.  The only use I have for a bureaucrat like Malcador is as an improvised melee weapon.  I would have wrung the old bastard by his skinny neck for his arrogant attitude, Regent of Terra or not.   But Lady Arlette herself was there and decided to compromise.   The Sigillite would find a good suicide mission and point us in the direction, and she would handle the rest.”

 

Vesta laughed, “ My father had similar  sentiments about politicians, As did my grandfather. That’s how he want from a farmer to an Imperial Governor when the Emperor and the Legiones Astartes came.  But why blacken your armor when you could wear your old Legion colors before your legion was reunited with your primarch?” 

 

“Because the Twelfth Legion will go down in history as traitors and butchers, madman who lusted for blood and skulls.  Because the second I laid my eyes on our Primarch  the second our own Apothecaries started hammering the Nails in  our skulls, the second a legionnaire killed one of his squadmates when he lost himself to those damn  things, the Twelfth Legion was dead.  Boian may think otherwise, but our Legion will never be redeemed.”

 

Vesta let out a  thoughtful hum.

 

“So what will you do after?”

 

“After what?” Haar asked.

 

“After Horus and his ilk are defeated?” Aella asked.

 

“I don’t plan on surviving this war Vesta.  What could I do besides fight?  Plow a field? Bake a cake?”

 

“Come live on Byzas Longa,   take up knitting or a hobby besides ripping out spinal cords and kneecapping people.”

 

Haar chuckled.

 

“And what will you do when Horus hangs from the Traitor’s Gibbet?”

 

“ Before I lost my family, I had plenty of options. My father said if I proved myself, I could secure a commission in the Solar Auxilla, or a Warrant of Trade if I didn’t want to  succeed him.  But now that they’re gone, the only option I have left is to  fight until every last one of Horus’  bastards are dead .  Then I’m going home and I'm taking my world back.  You saw all the refugees on Terra, when this war is over plenty of people will need homes. “

 

“If it makes you feel any better, that Apothecary  is enjoying to company of the Silent Sisterhood  and the World Eaters who slaughtered your people are all dead.”

 

“It does. It’s good to know that there’s some justice in the galaxy gone mad.”  Vesta said softly.

 

Haar didn’t reply.   

 

A calm silence filled the air.   A minute or two passed, and then the heiress of a dead world  bid him good night.  Haar stayed there for a while, his mind not quite shutting down and resting, but not quite awake.  He surveyed the destroyed servitors and returned to his own quarters.

 

Sleep eluded him like an Alpha legionnaire for a while, but it found him an hour later.

 

He did not suffer anymore nightmares that night, but the days ahead would not give him time to  sleep.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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End file.
